


the same stars

by jellijeans



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: F/M, as usual big spoiler warning, celicalm is the only real ship ngl, if that makes sense, this is really just a collection of related drabbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 19:25:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13441653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellijeans/pseuds/jellijeans
Summary: or; constellationHe traces the constellations in the sky and remembers the ones Celica taught him; she always seemed to just know more than he did, but he doesn’t know if that applies here. He has a mission to do, and if that requires violence, then so be it—he always knew that there was something Celica possessed that he didn’t, and perhaps what she possessed was the ability to be peaceful. Perhaps it just doesn’t run in his blood.





	1. orion

The first night after they leave Zofia Castle, Alm doesn’t sleep; he doesn’t even go to his bed—he just stays awake and sits on the hill right outside their camp and stares up at the sky, wondering if things really had to go this way. Celica had seemed...so unlike herself—but then again, does he really know her anymore? Years ago, they had been inseparable, could finish each other’s sentences, could almost read each other’s minds...but that was years ago in Ram Village, when the most pressing matter on their minds was who was going to get water from the well, or who was going to go train with grandpapa. Things are...things are different now—years have passed, time has gone by, and neither of them are who they used to be. Alm is a fighter, and Celica is a priestess. He’s spent seventeen years training with their— _his_ —grandfather, and she has spent those years being raised as a priestess. He learned the sword, and she learned...she learned _peace_ —perhaps those two things are incompatible.

He traces the constellations in the sky and remembers the ones Celica taught him; she always seemed to just know _more_ than he did, but he doesn’t know if that applies here. He has a mission to do, and if that requires violence, then so be it—he always knew that there was something Celica possessed that he didn’t, and perhaps what she possessed was the ability to be peaceful. Perhaps it just doesn’t run in his blood.

 

There are days when after the battles, Alm sits down with Lukas and Clive as the two of them talk; Clive often talks about Mathilda, whereas Lukas tends to muse about some book he picked up at a passing village, or occasionally a meal he had that was particularly nice; all the while, they bandage their wounds and ponder what life will be like once the war is over. Once, Clive asks if Lukas has a lady back home; Lukas shrugs, stating that he courted one for many years before the war, but finds that he doesn’t really miss her. Surprisingly, Clive understands, and tells him something along the lines of “you don’t need another person to be happy”—Alm understands how that could apply to Lukas, but he doesn’t really see it applying to himself. In a way, he needs Celica—he wraps his hands around the pendant and prays that wherever she is, she’s safe, and thinks about what they’ll do once the war is over.

He’d like to bring her back to Ram Village, like they’d always talked about, but he’s not sure if that’s possible anymore—he’s become too involved with Zofia, too involved with Valentia. Is he...is he king of Zofia, now? Is he in line for the throne? He liberated it after all, and there are no remaining members of the royal family, aside from possibly the princess—what if...if Celica was his queen, what would that be like? It wouldn’t be Ram Village, certainly, and he’s nowhere near a noble, but it would be nice...different, but nice. The whole world in their hands, just in a different way.

The stars are the same in Ram Village and in Zofia Castle, he supposes. It would be different, but not bad.

Not bad at all.

 

Lukas comes into his tent one night, on one of the nights where he can’t sleep; he taps on the tent flap before letting himself in, somewhat unsurprised to see Alm sitting up in bed, pouring over some maps for the next day’s march. Lukas clears his throat.

  
“Alm, I wish to speak with you, if I may.”

“Of course, Lukas,” Alm says, rolling the map up and placing it to the side. “How can I help you?”

“It’s about your...your friend? The one we met at Zofia Castle,” Lukas says, immediately noticing Alm tense. “I apologize if this is a sensitive subject. I will leave if you wish.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Alm responds. “It’s fine. I’m here to talk. I won’t be some stoic, wordless leader.”

Lukas offers a small smile to him. It’s a charming characteristic of his, Alm thinks—it’s no surprise that women whisper to each other about him when they pass through a village with a smile like that. There’s nowhere to sit, so Lukas gingerly leans against one of the tent poles.

“Is she important to you?” Lukas asks softly. “I noticed how you acted after she...stormed out, I suppose. It’s akin to the way Clive was after Mathilda was captured. This has no effect on the army, of course; I merely wanted to make sure you were okay. An army that cannot support its commander is destined to fail.”

Somehow, Alm sees that Lukas asks him this for more of a reason than just wanting to support his commander. It’s touching.

“I care about her a lot,” Alm admits softly. “Perhaps not in the way that Clive and Mathilda care for each other—er, not _quite_ like that—you know what I mean!—but she’s...she’s very important to me, and I feel terrible about...about what happened.” Alm pauses, recollecting his thoughts, and Lukas notices the ends of his mouth tugging slightly downwards. “I miss her, Lukas.”

“I thought that may be the case,” Lukas responds. “While I am certainly not the best at emotional support—you of all people know this well, Alm,” he continues, laughing, “I would like to reassure you that we as the Deliverance will do everything we can to safely reunite you two, and things will be okay.”

Alm smiles. “Thanks, Lukas.”

“Any time, Alm.”

Lukas solutes and dips out of the tent, and for the first time since leaving Zofia Castle, Alm gets a restful sleep.


	2. andromeda

There are nights when Celica can’t sleep because of the thunderstorms, and wonders if Alm is caught under the same thunderstorms, too; she can’t see the stars tonight, and somehow, that makes them seem so much further apart. Seeing how Boey and Mae interact makes her heart hurt—having grown up with them, she’s seen their relationship coming together from miles away, and always knew it would end up like this, but then again, she always assumed that she would have Alm by her side, too.

Saber is the first one who notices her getting more and more depressed; eventually, after a battle in which she almost threw her life away, he pulls her aside and sends everyone else off to treat their wounds.

“Alright, lass, what the fuck? You can’t be throwing your life away like that. You’re the commander, in case you’ve forgotten,” he says. Celica stares at the floor. “Lass.”

“Saber, I don’t wish to talk about this right now—”

“Lass, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly giving you an option. I care about you, and I’m not going to let you tear yourself up over some fling between your childhood friends.” Despite the harshness of his words, Celica can sense an almost paternal intent behind them. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“Saber...” Celica pauses and then swallows, and she can feel tears welling up in her eyes.  
“Is it the boy? The Deliverance general?” Saber asks. “I saw the way you looked at him when we arrived at the capitol. It’s clear you know him, and do a little more than just care for him.”

“Saber, I—we grew up together. It’s only natural that I would miss him, but...we’ve said our goodbyes. I must press onward, no matter the cost. If that means losing him, it means losing him.”

“That’s unnecessary, lass.”

“Wh—what?”

“I’m saying you’re being overdramatic. You had one spat—so what? All lovers tend to, lass. I don’t know if you’d call yourself that, given that it’s clear you haven’t seen him in  _ some  _ years, but it’s clear you two hold feelings for each other.” Saber places a reassuring hand on Celica’s shoulder. “We’re working alongside you, lass—you’re not alone. And yes, I’ve been strung a little further on this trip than I intended to—but if I’m going to see it out to the end, I might as well help you with your boy problems, or whatever you noble folk call them. We’ll make sure you see each other again. You’re a princess, ain’t you? I’m not exactly a knight, but I’m here to make sure you get your happy ending, or something like that. I’ve certainly made more than I intended to on this trip, so I might as well keep going.”

Celica rubs at her eye with the back of her wrist and manages a small smile.

“Thank you, Saber. I apologize for burdening you.”

“Of course, lass.” He grins at her. She offers a small smile back.

 

She picks up her sword, and presses onward.


	3. canes venatici

Eventually, Sage Halcyon’s magic grants them the ability to speak again; Celica is _so relieved_ that Alm isn’t mad at her, she cries into his arms.

As much as one can while only being a projection of themselves, anyway.

He takes his hands—so soft, so warm, so exactly as she remembers them, so _there_ —and cups her face with them, gently wiping away her tears with the pads of his thumbs, and suddenly, they’re both crying. She wraps her arms around him and presses her head onto his chest, smiling, and even though she’s not really there, it’s good enough.

 

He apologizes for his comment about the Zofian princess, sees where he was wrong—she forgives him and doesn’t mind, and knows that, in her heart, Alm could not have meant to do wrong like that. She simply smiles at him and thinks about the million things she would say if she were only really _there_ , if they only had more time.

She explains she’s heading for Duma Tower, and she sees his heart _break_ —she immediately sees the worry in his eyes, the corners of his lips tense in the way they always have when he’s anxious, even when they were kids—she grabs his hand and squeezes it and promises that things will be okay. He says he believes her, but he doesn’t relax—she smiles at him softly and presses a kiss to his cheek in the same way that they did when they were children, what was an act of affection for her family in the palace and then became an act of affection for her family in the village. She immediately feels him relax when she does that, feels him melt into her touch, and she pulls away and tells him everything will be alright. He believes her, he says, and although she can still tell it pains him, he is okay.

“Will I see you again?”

Celica grabs his hand again and squeezes it, looking him in the eyes.

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, this one is really short!


	4. cassiopeia

Jedah disappears and Alm races up to the bars, Clive’s warnings be damned—he is _not_ going to let Celica fall out of his grasp this quickly, this uncontrollably. Not after all this. Not after...not after _everything_.

“Celica!”

He races up to the bars of the cell, his throat knotting, as Celica approaches slowly, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m so sorry. Please forgive me,” she whispers. She weaves her fingers between his, and he wishes he could pull her out of the cell, hold her tight and end this war right here and now—but he can’t even reach his arms far enough to dry her tears. He feels his eyes begin to sting.

“This is crazy! You can’t do this! I’m going to get you out of here—just hold on!” He reaches for his sword, reaches for _anything_ , to try to break the bars, but knows in his heart it won’t work. Duma’s high priest would not be so stupid as to leave Celica in a chamber that could be broken by mortal hands—he’s well aware of this, and yet it’s all he can think of to try. He tries his hardest to break the bars, bend them, widen it just enough so Celica can squeeze out, _anything_ —

“You don’t understand, Alm. I came here knowing what awaited me.”

He stops.

“What?”

Celica lowers her gaze, and goes from quiet tears to full on sobbing as she speaks, and Alm _so badly_ wants to get her out, take her _anywhere_ but here, but...they are stuck in a temple, at mercy to the earth and to death themselves, and he is powerless. Like he’s always been. Couldn’t stop the coup, couldn’t prevent Celica from leaving Ram, couldn’t say the right things at Zofia Castle. Can’t save her now.

“Back on the island, I had a dream,” Celica begins. She slowly lets go of his hands, and doesn’t look up at him. “A dream where something terrible happened to you. So I decided to petition Mila for the strength to protect you. Yet for all my travels, you’ve still faced terrible danger, and you were even forced to end your own father’s life.” She pauses again, taking in a quick, shaky breath before continuing. Tears splash down her face. “...I’d seen it all. I knew it was coming, but I couldn’t change a thing! I failed to keep you safe, Alm.”

“That’s not...Celica, none of what’s happened is your fault. You’re not to blame for any of it!”

Celica continues on. Alm starts to shake, and he raises his hand to his cheek to rub his eye and then realizes his cheeks are soaked with tears. He chokes back a sob.

“But I won’t lose you. I won’t let any of you die! I don’t want you to fight Duma—I don’t want anyone to be hurt or killed! That’s my only desire in this life.”

“Celica!” Alm tries so hard to break her from her train of thought, to remind her of something, _anything_ to pull her back to reality, but somewhere, deep down, he knows it won’t help. She’s always been like this, even when they were kids. Not necessarily stubborn, but determined. Unwilling to change her mind from the course of action. His words flow past her.

“...and this is the only means I have of ensuring this comes to pass,” she continues. She finally meets his eyes, and Alm sees a darkness that wasn’t there before, a quiet resilience, the knowledge she walks to her death but accepts it anyway. Alm grabs her hands through the bars once again, tries to not let go, never wants to let go, but she pulls them away. “So again, Alm, I’m sorry. I wish it could have been different. I always have.” She pauses, and holds back a sob, offering the shaky smile he’s become all too familiar with. “I wish I could have gone home to the village and lived there with you.”

With that, Celica turns away from him and leaves, vanishing into the darkness, and Alm screams. Not like this. This, the one thing he went on this journey to prevent—this, his worst nightmare. This, the love of his life turning away from him and walking to her demise staring death in the face and not even blinking, not even having to brace herself for it. This, the beginning of a world without her—the beginning of a world he does not want to live in.

This, the beginning of the end.

“Celica, please wait!”

She doesn’t come back.

“ _CELICA!_ ”

 

He drops to his knees and screams, wrapping his arms around his head and tearing at his neck, letting out full sobs of agony. He can’t lose her. Not like this. Not after knowing she wanted to go back to the village with him, not after knowing that they could have been happy, not after literally having the world in their hands, not after losing his father and Berkut, too. She can’t leave him alone in this world—he can’t take it. He doesn’t know what to do without her, has never known what to do without her—she gives him purpose. For the longest time, training in Ram Village, she—finding her— _was_ his purpose—and now she’s gone.

He wants the familiar smile, the familiar pink eyes to meet with his and tell him everything will be alright, like she always did, but right now, she is the one thing out of his grasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl the dialogue here is more or less straight from the game
> 
> once again thank you for reading!! hope you're enjoying it


	5. cepheus

He grabs the blade and thrusts forward and for a second, he’s not sure who’s been struck—who’s about to die. He’s making a mental tally of every wound he has, every place that hurts, but everything feels numb and he just can’t tell—is he going to die here? Was all of this in vain?

Celica starts to gasp for breath, and suddenly the world snaps into focus, and it is all too clear who’s been stabbed and who hasn’t. Her weight on the end of his sword...it’s too much—far too much—and he lets go and stumbles backwards. Not like this. Between her gasps, she mumbles something—Alm is almost certain it’s his name—and her tears splash to the floor, and she collapses.

“Gods, no...”

Alm stumbles over to her and sees the blood begin to stain her clothes—once so white, once so pure, once so indestructible. “Don’t leave me, Celica—you can’t!”

“Celica—” Alm drops to his knees and begins to desperately shake her, sobbing. He can’t lose her. Not like this. Not to his own blade.

Is this how his father felt, dying at the hands of the one person he loved most?

How is that mercy? How is that... _peace_?

What of _his_ peace?

“—Celica! Say something, please!” Alm wraps his arms around Celica and pulls her tight, and tries to ignore the hilt of the Falchion digging into his own ribs—he’s lost the last person close to him. First his father, then Berkut, and now Celica—and the last, of course, hurts the worst. He never really knew his father or Berkut—he could’ve, but he didn’t—but gods, he _knew_ Celica. He had always known her. He knew every feature of her face and every word she said and all of the little quirks and histories she had, like how when she had first come back from the Imperial Villa, she had loved refined food, but had immediately loved the sweet foods she had been introduced to in Ram, or how she could actually wield a sword in either hand, or how, when they were kids, she would make flower crowns for him and for Mycen from the fields that surrounded the village. And yet...she was gone, and he was the one who had done it. “ _CELICA!_ ”

 

Ω

 

Mila fades away, and Celica immediately collapses into Alm’s arms, crying.

“Alm, I...”

“Listen, Celica,” he murmurs, running his hands through her hair, “I know you sacrificed your life to protect me and the others—but I never wanted that. I couldn’t ever be happy in a world you died to create!”

“Oh, Alm! I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry!”  
He pulls her tighter, and presses a soft kiss to her forehead. Both of them are bloodied and scarred, out of breath, hungry and weak, but right now, the most important thing is that they’re together.

“Don’t apologize,” he responds. “Just know that I need you, alright? Without your wisdom, all I know how to do is fight whatever’s in front of me. So please...will you fight with me? Believe in me. Believe in _us_. Believe in our combined strength!”

“I do,” Celica whispers. “It’s as Mila said...we’ve had the strength to live and fight for our world this whole time. I lost faith in that somewhere along the way...but right now, it seems the most obvious thing in the world. I trust in mankind like I trust in you, Alm—absolutely, and without hesitation.”

Alm smiles at her. She smiles back.

“I feel the same, Celica. This isn’t where things end for us. Even without gods, this world has a long and prosperous future ahead of it. Now let’s go claim that future together!”

 


	6. gemini

As Duma gives his final words, Alm steadies himself, hunched over on his knees, before almost collapsing. Celica runs up and catches him, and he slowly pushes himself up before lurching backwards again; she weaves her arm around his back and holds him up as Duma continues, and he lets more of his weight lean against her as he feels her steady herself.

“Make her strong like Duma—”

Celica looks at Alm.

“—and fill her with Mila’s love.”

Alm looks at Celica.

“Let our grave mistakes be warnings of where not to tread as you lead her forth. Now, we shall sleep. And never shall you disturb our slumber.”

Duma falls into his final rest, and Alm twists around just enough to cup Celica’s face in his hands and kisses her on the lips for the first time; above them, the stars are the same as they’ve always been, the same as they are in Zofia Castle and the same as they are in Ram Village, and Celica kisses him back. Both of them taste like ash, grime, blood, tainted with death, but in this moment, surrounded by their friends, in the world neither of them had to die to create, they could not imagine a better way. Alm lurches back again, but Celica catches him, and although it hurts to breathe, both of them are laughing and smiling and just happy to exist and to be. Somewhere, behind on the battlefield, Saber and Lukas look at the two of them and grin; Genny, Silque and Tatiana rush around the battlefield, healing as many wounds as they can, and Clive, Mathilda, Clair, Mycen, and the pegasus sisters begin to load soldiers on to evacuate the battlefield, group by group. Alm and Celica are the last to go, escorted out by Mycen.

“You know,” Mycen begins, turning back briefly to see Alm slouched over, asleep, with his arms wrapped around Celica’s waist and his head on her back, “I always had the feeling you two would end up together, somehow.”

“Really?” Celica asks, laughing. “Were we even like this as kids?”

“You have no idea,” Mycen responds. The old knight smiles. “I’m glad you’ve found each other.”

Celica brushes her hand over Alm’s, still wrapped around her waist. She smiles when she feels his fingers reach out and linger on hers for a second as she passes over them, with Alm adjusting his head and murmuring something incoherent against her back.

“Yes—me too, grandfather.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, this one is kind of short as well, but that’s a wrap!
> 
> i will hopefully have another fic up soon. please let me know if you enjoyed this!
> 
> thank you so much for reading!


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